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hey anyone lined up gigs for the holiday season, Christmas and New Years Eve yet? I'm trying to get some solo gigs at hotels or private parties. Seems to be less demand this year for whatever reason. More knocking on doors and cold calling.

I am busy. This weekend I will be putting on my fairy costume and accompanying six performances of the musical I wrote a billion years ago. In my costume I look a lot more like an aging country western star than a fairy, but the budget is limited for this show, we have a cast of nine, and I'm the only musician I can afford.

On the flip side I have a string of concerts lined up to correspond (or support) the release of my holiday CD. This will start happening next week. Intermingled with the concerts are a wedding, two private parties, and my standard cocktail piano gigs. New Year's Eve is the same gig I've done for the last 12 years.

I feel very lucky that I have this castle scene here in Germany. Sometimes I even feel guilty about it—but I figure it's karmic payback for all the dog gigs I worked over the first 20 years of my career. Remember folks, I once played at the Newark Airport Holiday Inn, the Waterbury Connecticut Holiday Inn (home of the Blue Hawaiian), and a third world cocktail lounge in Haiti (the Haitian gig was the best of the three). I also played on New Year's Eve six years in a row at the Marriott Marquis in TIMES SQUARE. Shoot me now. Actually, I'm lucky no one did. This was in the eighties—Times Square wasn't quite as snazzy as it is now.

So yeah, I have a lot to do this season—when I counted it was almost 50 gigs between November 1st and January 1st, but I think I added a few more in recent weeks.

I hear that other musicians in this part of Germany are also busy, but that this year is a little slower than last year.

Okay, gotta go put on the Dolly Parton wig. It looks really cute with my pink fairy tutu and lavender rubber boots. I shall attempt to look a bit more refined for the solo concerts.

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

BDB, I going to get one of those sparkly eye patches. It would look just perfect with so many of my outfits—and it would certainly distract from my lack of technical expertise when playing Nutcracker selections.

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

And speaking of sparkle, because of the fairy play, I have glitter everywhere. It's in my eyebrows, under my fingernails, in my hair (which is saying something because I wear a wig for this gig).

Two down, three performances to go. Yesterday we had a toddler wander onto the stage and just stand there, soaking up the spotlight and, as you might guess, stealing the show, until the boy actor playing the troll nicely escorted her back into the audience and told her to eat her cookies. The little girl was wearing pink tulle (the troll was wearing green felt). In many ways it was like a wedding.

I do have one lone wedding gig coming up on the 7th. So far no weird requests, but there's still a week to go.

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

December 7th's bride called yesterday. Very nice woman, so far—they can turn on you when you least expect it, I realize, but until now, everything is fine. She will make her entrance into the main hall of the castle by descending the very long (and curved) staircase. Her music? She has selected the theme from Legends of the Fall for her descent. I like this piece—I recorded it several years ago. I am just concerned about that FALL word in there when she will be coming down a rather perilous staircase in a puffy white dress.

When she reaches the bottom (one way or another) the guests will line up behind her and follow her into the salon used for the civil ceremony. It will be a little parade-like, but should be nice. I will then play again when they all come out for the reception.

Next week I head to Vienna, Berlin, and Rome for my CD release tour. It's Christmas music time!

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

Wedding report—everything went pretty smoothly. Nobody fell down the staircase.

That said, a couple of goofy things did happen. The bride, who was scheduled to make her entrance at the top of the stairs at 6 PM, was (typically) a little late. Okay, very late. The plan was for her to come down the steps with her father, who would hand her over to the groom, then the two of them would proceed to the salon for the ceremony, with all of the guests following them. A fine plan. And it all went well, except that the official for the ceremony, Herr Wittburger, a lanky guy with a shock of Santa-Claus-white hair decided he had to go to the potty right before the bride made her entrance. I can't blame him really—that 30 minute delay was a little excessive.

Anyway, no one saw Herr Wittburger go down to the restroom, except me, because all eyes were gazing upwards, watching for the bride. So the big parade into the official ceremony room ended with all of them in there and no official present. A slight panic ensued, but Herr Wittburger arrived back in the main hall, looked around and said: "Ah, I guess they're ready," did a discreet check of his fly zipper (why do all men do this AFTER they come out of the restroom?) and sashayed with confidence into the salon. In a way, his entrance upstaged the bride, which wasn't easy, because she was extremely buxom and wearing about 18 yards of white lace, including a mantilla.

After the ceremony the bride and her equally buxom sisters decided to lean over the piano for a photo. It might be December, but June was busting' out all over, that's all can say. After last week's musical, the banquet people had neglected to put the locks (or brakes as I call them) on the piano wheels. Let me tell you, when those three ladies (six really big breasts) leaned on the piano, we slid about two feet towards the fireplace—a gyrating jumble of white lace (the bride), pink chiffon ruffles (the sisters), and black jersey (me). I had visions of all of us going up in a blaze.

"Whoa!" I shouted.

"Woo-hoo," they giggled, full of champagne and high on post-wedding good cheer. I resolved the chord, shoved the piano back into position (amazing what you can do if you're not wearing a push-up bra), hit the floor, and turned the locks. The ladies adjusted themselves and the eager photographer snapped away. I played on and on.

Have a great week, everyone. I shall attempt to post stories from the road.

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

The answer is, that after we wash our hands, we just like to make sure. After so many thousands of identical events, the memory tends to blur.

Herr Wittburger didn't want the wedding party to be thinking, "Ah--- another six weeks of winter." You know; if the woodchuck can see his shadow. Things were dicey enough with the ladies pushing the piano into the fireplace.

Best of luck with the CD release tour, Robin.

PS:"...his entrance upstaged the bride, which wasn't easy, because she was extremely buxom and wearing about 18 yards of white lace..."

And speaking of "The Nutcracker," some may remember Keith Emerson's rendering (with Emerson, Lake, and Palmer), which he called "The Nutrocker." It was the kind of performance that made the needle skip out of the grooves on the record player. Even though Keith wrote a song to his recording engineer, even the best of them can only do so much.

But you may not know that his first Moog synth was damaged when a tractor crashed into his studio. Neither did I, and all I was trying to do was find out where he went to school. No worries; he ordered a new and bigger one.

While I have heard, and it is surely obvious, that Keith Emerson is a conservatory-trained keyboard musician, all the same, neither of three ELP websites (and Wiki) mentioned when or where. They do detail every piece of equipment the group has ever used--- and of course, that is much more important.

I'm just saying, that these brides who imagine the pianist will tinkle out darling little pieces from The Nutcracker, which fairies will dance to, might just have a Christmas surprise coming. And who's to say, some brides might like it.

The concerts in Berlin and Vienna were splendid. The Vienna hall was one of those very Viennese shabby chic faded-glory kind of joints. Gorgeous on first glance but, upon further inspection, I noticed peeling paint and cracked plaster—all of which added to its charm. I'm peeling and cracking a bit myself these days, so I felt right at home. The grand piano was a "Royale." I've never played a Royale, nor had I ever even heard of one, so that was a first. The concert promoters had described it as an "antique"—always cause for concern, but it was from the eighties, I think. Maybe this qualifies as an antique to some.

I did have to deal with the SOPRANO, a stunning young woman who sang three carols at the end of my concert program (with the help of the audience). Brides and sopranos are very much alike, I've discovered. They can't help themselves and tend to think pianists are slaves, musical drones plunked down at their not so dainty little feet for the express purpose of making them look and sound good. Change the key, change the tempo, change your dress, change the song. I have the utmost respect for professional accompanists, those musical wonder kids (with nerves of steel) who are really good at playing for singers. This is a real skill and one to be admired. But I am not one of these people. I can do a bad job of it if necessary, but I am a soloist and that's what I do. It kind of irks me that so many singers just assume that any pianist can automatically accompany any singer. This is like asking a French chef to cook Indian food.

Anyway, I took control of the soprano situation the way I take care of my brides (smile, nod, be firm, and go ahead and do what I want to do). There was one funny moment in rehearsal when the soprano (an opera singer with an excellent mezzo range) suggested we do a "jazzy" version of White Christmas and then began snapping her fingers on "one" and "three." I wish I had a video of that moment. Opera-jazz. Not so swinging.

I moved on from Vienna to Berlin, where I played at the Brandenburger Hof Hotel, the polar opposite of the Vienna venue. 5-star, sleek, one of those über-chic locales with hand-painted murals on the wall, unidentified huge trees in the lobby, and leather chairs in funky shapes with wheels on them. This event was for an International Women's organization in Berlin. I played a one hour concert and then high tea was served. No sopranos, but we did do some carol singing at the end. It was festive and heartwarming and fun.

I came back to town just in time to play my regular gigs at the castle, which I'm now calling Holiday Party Central. Tomorrow I go to Rome where I am performing at the Hotel de Russie. I have never been to Rome. I'm wondering if the Pope is a piano fan.

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

I did have to deal with the SOPRANO, a stunning young woman who sang three carols at the end of my concert program (with the help of the audience). Brides and sopranos are very much alike, I've discovered.

One of my old choir directors used to say "sopranos have resonance where most people keep their brains" and that certainly has been the case a few times;

Royale was a name used by Daewoo Precision Industries, a Korean concern best known for Sojin pianos.

I had my Dance Along Nutcracker gig yesterday. I tuned for appreciative musicians, mostly amateur, but not bad, and then stayed for the rehearsal. I spoke with Rev. Jim, the tap-dancing starfish, and someone from my college days playing first oboe. Then I went outside where there were a few bad Santas on their SantaCon pub crawl, but I missed the bulk of it, which was probably more towards Union Square or Civic Center. I saw more of them last year.

Well thank you BDB—I had a feeling the Royale was of Asian origin. Fred Rogers used to play a tiny spinet ( in his home on Nantucket), called a GRAND piano. You can imagine the fun he had with that.

I am back from Rome where I performed for some very nice American expats. On the trip there, as I was boarding the plane, the Event Planner called to ask me what time I would like to come to check out the ELECTRIC PIANO! Really, I almost had a heart attack right there in the jetway. The Event Planner's English wasn't great, my Italian is nonexistent , and there I was in a crowd of Germans pitching a big fat diva fit, yelling things like I NEED A REAL PIANO. I think I even used the words "pianoforte authentico" at one point. I'm sure I sounded (to my German neighbors) like a madwoman.

I shall spare you the details, but I got what I wanted, a Yamaha C5 delivered by two guys named Gino and Luciano and tuned by a swarthy guy named Tony. All of which was in the contract to begin with, but I discovered that the Italians (at least the ones I was dealing with) seem to enjoy a little chaos in their daily lives. Maybe I've been living in Germany too long.

The concert was at the five-star Hotel de Russie, close to the Spanish Steps. Quite the location.

It looks like I may have a wedding to play in Rome next September—my friend the Event Planner is now a fan, even though I had to yell at her in Pig Italian. There is a lot of wedding tourism going on in Rome—rich people fly in from all over the world to tie the knot in front of the Coliseum or whatever.

Okay, this just in—a really nice (and short) video about my life as an expat American pianist in Europe. You can see the castle where I play and one of the Ninja swans even shows up halfway through—the other one was chasing the Indonesian cameraman.

An Italian invents the piano; finally, the piano comes home to Rome, where all roads lead (eventually)... brought by an American pianist resident in Germany. No one said it was a direct route, but so few are.

And Robin even charmed the wedding planner. Eve has, at last, gotten the upper hand on the serpent. Now, that would make a nice Christmas tree decoration, and no one else will have one just like it, in Rome or anywhere else. I'm sure some artisan would enjoy the commission, while you're there anyway. As they say, "When in Rome..."

nice video Robin and funny story about the soprano singer clapping on 1 and 3! there's a clip of Harry Connick Jr playing in France, the audience is doing the same, and he plays an extra bar halfway through so the beat is on 2 and 4. brilliant!

I got a Christmas gig coming up this weekend, fancy house party. should be fun.

Harry is brilliant, that's all I can say. I first heard him when he was a teenager, playing a wreck of a piano at Chez Josephine on 42nd Street in NYC. I couldn't see him at first, I could only hear him, and I thought I was listening to a salty 80 year old New Orleans pianist. He is, and always has been great. And I hear through the grapevine that he is extremely generous with his band.

Okay, a little holiday gift for all of you. Marian McPartland's LET IT SNOW program is airing on NPR this weekend. I'm on the roster, playing "First Snow" from my December album. An hour's worth of holiday music, fearing Marian, George Shearing, Dena DeRose . . . . Merry Christmas Marian, wherever you are. You know, she never got into computers (until the end, when she was charmed by her many friends on Facebook), but I can't help but think she would have loved this thread.

I don't sing, so I won't be using the "breakfast" trick! But I will think it. Actually not, since the season is now officially OVER. Because of my Christmas CD (the preparation and the recording and the tour) I feel like this has been the longest Christmas of my life. I started working on this thing back in January 2013. Oy. I need, if not a drink, then I need BREAKFAST.

Here is a link to my newest essay—for those of you who might wonder what it's like to be an expatriate musician. Food for thought. Or breakfast for thought.

"...I feel like this has been the longest Christmas of my life. I started working on this thing back in January 2013..."

My Aunt Charlotte, who works at WalMart, says the same thing. I confess, I'm always glad to see the back side of the holidays... although we still have New Year's Eve and Epiphany to get through, with hardly time to catch our breath before Valentine's Day and Mardi Gras will be upon us. And (if you live in San Francisco) Chinese New Year--- always good for a nice traffic tie-up. If people who express dismay that the tradition of holiday shopping had seen, as I did, two ladies getting into a fistfight at Barnes and Noble over a book, they would not wonder that so many just order online and have done with it.

Thanks for sharing your essay. You have such a wonderful gift for knowing just what to say, and it seems that it has come down to your daughter as well. I loved the photo at the end, too. How can it be, that the back of your head is so completely recognizable?

PS- Josephine Baker might have gotten an Honorable Mention on the list of American ex-pats, though she is certainly less-known generally and could hardly have made the list of finalists. And, she is, perhaps, an epicure's taste.

Best wishes for the New Year, Robin. Remember what I said about Eve and the serpent--- not many can say as much for themselves, at least, in recorded history.

I LOVE Josephine Baker. I mentioned Chez Josephine (the restaurant where I heard a teenage Harry Connick a million years ago) a few posts back. It is owned by one of Josephine's many adopted children—a guy named Jean Claude Baker. At the time I was hanging out there—in the eighties and early nineties—I was also hanging out in Haiti, where Josephine also had a history—she had once been the lover of Albert Silvera, the previous owner of the hotel where I played. I think maybe this is too much information, so I'll stop while I'm ahead.

Anyway, a woman who becomes famous for posing naked with a string of bananas around her waist is okay in my book. And her son runs a damn good restaurant.

So, I survived New Year's Eve at the castle. I lived through the dance band playing the world's longest version of "Smooth Operator," the annual Titans of Industry lizard dance, the pumpkin risotto, the ninety year-old close-talker who smells like moth balls, the blond-bombshell nipped and tucked soccer-wife who tells me things about her breast implants that I really don't want to know.

I did it. Twelve years in a row on this gig. Home by midnight (the dance band took over at 11:00) and no one shot a rocket, a firework, or a missile at me.

Happy New Year to all my PW friends. For me 2014 is The Year of Energy. I'll let you know how it's shaping up, but first I need to take a nap.

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

Happy New Year's to you, too, Robin. I'm catching up on this thread and saw that you went to Rome. I've only been there once, during the summer, and was completely enchanted by it... it was probably my favorite not-home city that I could see myself living in for an extended period of time. The Piazza Nevona was my favorite place to hang out. And the Villa Borghese... sheer loveliness. It still amazes me at how modern shops/streets etc. could be interspersed with sites that are literally over 2000 years old. Here in Lexington we get excited if a building is over 100 years old!

Of course, the world's longest version of "Smooth Operator" probably makes 2000 old buildings seem like chump change.

I loved your essay about being an expat. Every time my hubby and I think about ditching it all and buying a cheap villa in Mexico or Costa Rica, we think about what it would mean to leave the U.S. forever. You've given us a lot of food for thought.

Nice to hear from you, Monica! I understand why you fell in love with Rome—it's certainly impressive. I also played in Berlin and Venice in the the same week—equally impressive for different reasons.

At the Rome airport I had a driver waiting for me with, get this, car buffs, an Alpha Romeo. The driver had a shaved head, wrap around sunglasses and was wearing a very tight black suit. He also had one of those phones that was attached to his ear. It was like something out of a James Bond movie (on location in Rome). Anyway, he said something like "Ciao, Bella," (I always thought ciao was for goodbye, but they seem to use it for hello, too), grabbed my suitcase and took off with me trailing behind him. Fine. But this guy was falling all over himself looking at the younger women in the airport. I felt like Great Aunt Edna on a retirement trip to Italy.

Once I got over the relief and disappointment of NOT being hit on by Italian men, I had a good time. I had my Nikes with me, so each day I took off on a long walk. There is so much to see. My dear friend Benedikt (former director of Lerbach) is now the director of the Hassler Hotel, a glorious place on the top of the Spanish Steps. They have several really great pianos in that location, and, as far as I can tell, a very nice cocktail piano job right in the cocktail lounge off of the lobby.

I don't have much on the books as far as concerts go for 2014—but I will be heading to Oslo (!) in October. Right now, a big break, and then back to my regular cocktail gig at the castle. And hopefully a bunch of weddings.

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Robin Meloy Goldsbywww.goldsby.deAuthor of PIANO GIRL: A MemoirRHYTHM: A Novel RMG is a Steinway Artist

A bride being chased by a swan,Cried, “Begorrah, bad beastie, begone!”As she fled down the lawn,And the cameras clicked on,She could but take the Lord’s name in vain.

But, of course, that is not a proper limerick. The scansion is off, and the rhyming scheme falls short of the classic method. We might call it a 'lame limerick,' though it is colorful--- and printable--- which many of its kind cannot say for themselves. Let us try again.

A Planner, with clipboard in reach,Dozed off while the minister preached.She stepped on a trap,Which closed with a SNAP,And drowned out the vows with a screech.

We think of fragments of limericks; a couple of lines' worth. Do you think we might allow these to be entered into our competition, in case someone might think of a suitable completion?

I would hate to think of Robin, bursting into irrepressible laughter, during a solemn moment in the ceremony--- and over nothing, as far as the celebrants can tell.